Change
by Lysa-uk
Summary: Future fic set around three months after the end of season seven. Willow and Xander discover how their friendship can change forever in just one night. If anyone wants the NC-17 version of this, email me directly.


Title: Change

Author: Lysa-uk

Rating: PG-13

Feedback: I crave it. lysaharris@fsmail.net

Distribution: I can't see anyone wanting but, but if you do ask first.

Pairing: Willow/Xander (Come on, if anyone has read anything else of mine than you already know that it's a statistical impossibility that I'm able to write anything else.)

Summary: I suck at summaries, but this is more or less a future fic. This is how one night can change a relationship forever.

Spoilers: Season Seven mostly. Plus, key moments from Willow/Xander history.

Disclaimer: Here we go again, folks. I don't own any of the characters mentioned here. They belong to Joss Whedon/UPN/Mutant Enemy etc. I don't own anything, please don't sue me. I have nothing.

Notes: This is, as I said, set in the future, approximately three months or so after the end of the seventh season. The season hasn't finished just yet, so this is basically based on spoilers, or what I would like to happen. The stuff after that I just made up. By the way, I don't like Kennedy so she's only in the beginning, but if she comes off badly in this piece, I apologise if it offends anyone. This is pretty much crap, but it needed to be written. If anyone's interested, I may do an additional NC-17 ending. Email if you're interested.

Kennedy opened her eyes from her late afternoon nap and found the room completely submerged in darkness. She looked at the bright, assaulting light of the digital clock at the side of the bed and found it now to be early evening. She sat up, groaning from the weariness in her bones that the sleep had caused, and wiped the drying saliva from the corner of her mouth where she had been drooling. She edged towards the end of the bed and closed her eyes again, trying to listen intently if there were any sounds coming from the rooms downstairs. When she heard nothing she stood up, walking over to the door and opening it slowly, still trying to listen. When she heard nothing but Willow's distant humming, she realised they were alone in the house. The purpose of her naps were to escape from the closeness that Willow and Xander seemed to share, and sometimes it was more than she could stand to be around it and not tell them how pissed off she was about it. She descended the stairs slowly, stifling a yawn as she reached the bottom, and took a deep breath as she stood at the doorway to the Summers house, the place she had been living for the past six months. She watched Willow, still humming away to herself, unaware that she was being watched, as she closed the drapes to the front window and then turned on the light in the corner of the room. 

Willow moved to the coffee table, kneeling beside it as she put away the board game back in the box.

"Hey," Kennedy said eventually as she moved forwards into the room and perched herself on the edge of the sofa.

"Oh, hey," Willow said, turning to face her with a smile as she scooped up the Monopoly money and placed it in the box with the rest of the board game. "Have a good nap?"

"Yeah," Kennedy told her. "Kinda went on longer than I expected, though. I guess I must have been more tired than I thought." She nodded to the contents of the box. "Did you win?"

"Nope," Willow said, almost proudly. "I swear, that boy cheats at every game we play."

"Speaking of 'that boy'," Kennedy said, her tone becoming sharper. "Where **is** Xander?"

"He went back to the apartment to collect the rest of his things. He has to hand the keys back next week. I asked if he wanted me to go with, but he said he'd be okay. I think he wanted a little time to himself to say goodbye."

"He has **more** stuff?" Kennedy asked. "Jeez, what is it with him and his junk?"

"The thing with Xander is," Willow began, "everything holds a memory for him – well, everything except his Playboy collection. He likes to have his memories around him – unless they're bad ones."

"But I don't understand why he's giving up his apartment."

"Because, it doesn't make sense for him to be living here and paying rent on his apartment. Besides, I think it holds too many memories of Anya. Since she died…I think he'd just find it too hard living there."

"But he was living there when they broke up. What's the difference?"

"Just drop it, okay?" Willow urged gently.

"Whatever," Kennedy said with a shrug. "Hey, did I hear the phone earlier?"

"You did. It was Buffy calling from L.A."

"How is she?"

"Oh, she's fine," Willow said happily. "Actually, she's better than fine. She's happy. That's a big tick in the 'plus' column. According to Dawn, Buffy and Angel have been doing the smoochie thing twenty four seven."

"I don't really blame them," Kennedy said. "I mean, after all that lost time and all. What about Dawn, how's she doing?"

"She's loving living in the hotel and being back in L.A. Plus, she and Connor seem to be getting on well."

"Is he a hottie?" Kennedy asked playfully.

"He's from Angel's gene pool," Willow told her. "What do you think?"

Kennedy laughed. "So, what are we doing tonight?" she asked. "I was thinking maybe a night at the Bronze, just you and me?"

"Ohhh…" Willow said, suddenly remembering with a wince. "I know we said that we'd do something, but Xander and I already made plans to watch some old movies. But you're welcome to come, too, of course."

"No," Kennedy said, standing up, obviously annoyed. "It's fine."

Willow watched as Kennedy headed for the stairs and noisily marched up them, and rolled her eyes. "Not again…" she said to herself quietly. She got to her feet and trudged wearily upstairs, heading for the bedroom she shared with Kennedy, and found her sat on the bed among the ruffled comforter, an angry look on her face. "Look, I'll cancel with Xander," she told her. "Then we can-"

"Oh, no," Kennedy said, cutting her off with a bitterness in her voice. "You can't disappoint the Boy Wonder."

"What does that mean…?" Willow asked, wary of the tone in her voice.

"Nothing!" Kennedy snapped. "Look, why don't you just go downstairs and wait for Xander to come home."

Willow watched her cross her arms across her chest and throw her a side glance, before she turned and headed back downstairs, eager to get away from the tension. She thought about what Kennedy had said and, as she reached the third step down, she found herself irked by what she had said. Her fists clenched involuntarily and her face blushed red in anger as she turned back and stormed back into the room. "Okay, you know what, I've had enough of this!" she said, her anger rising.

"Enough of what?" Kennedy asked innocently.

"**This**," Willow told her, frustrated. "**You. Your attitude."**

"I don't have an attitude."

"Yeah, and I don't breathe," Willow snapped. "What's your problem, Kennedy? It's obvious that something crawled up your ass and died. You think I haven't noticed the snide looks and sarcastic comments you've been making?"

"I just…" Kennedy began quietly. "It would have been nice to have been asked, that's all."

"Asked about what?"

"About Xander moving in here. I understood when he was staying here with us after Anya died, but now…he's actually **living here. ****With us."**

"That's what all of this is about?" Willow asked. "You've got some kind of a problem with Xander?"

"Willow, all he does is sit around the house all day and-"

"And what do you expect him to do?" Willow asked. "He lost his eye, in case you forgot."

"This isn't his house."

"It's not yours either," Willow said simply. "Look, when Buffy and Dawn went to live with Angel, they left this house in mine and Xander's care. He has every right to be here. Buffy and Dawn want him here, I want him here, and it makes sense. Besides, he needs to be around us."

"He doesn't need to be around **us," Kennedy spat bitterly. "He needs to be around ****you. And you're letting him because you feel some kind of an obligation to him."**

"I'm his friend."

"Yeah, and you're supposed to be my girlfriend, in case that escaped your notice."

"What do you want from me?!" Willow yelled at her.

"I want some kind of a commitment from you," Kennedy told her. "I feel like I'm the lodger here. The third wheel."

"Don't be dramatic."

"'Dramatic'?" Kennedy said, half-laughing. "I walk into a room where you two are and suddenly the room goes silent. You both get up at the same time every morning to watch stupid cartoons, and when I come downstairs there you are, either lying on the floor together or having cereal fights. When you watch a movie together, you're all over each other. You're either curled up on his lap or he has an arm around you or his legs thrown across you. When I wake up in the middle of the night, you're not there. You're downstairs with him or, even worse, in his bed because he couldn't sleep. When I first came here, Willow, you barely spent an hour together alone, and now this?"

"The person that I care about the most in this stupid, messed up world is going through hell because he watched the person he loved die, and you want me to feel sorry for you because you're a big, spoilt, jealous brat?" she exploded at her. "Pardon me for not caring too much."

"I can't do this anymore…" Kennedy told her sincerely, tears welling up in her eyes. "I can't handle living here with the two of you."

Willow looked stunned for a moment. "Kennedy…are…are you asking me to choose between you and Xander?"

Kennedy looked down at the floor as she got to her feet, somewhat surprised at her own words. "I…I guess I am…"

"Wow…" Willow said to herself.

"Look, I know that you probably need some time to think about this, and-"

"I don't need time," Willow said, interrupting her. "I'm sorry, Kennedy."

"What…?"

"If you're asking me to choose between you and Xander – and that seems to be what you're doing here – then it's him. It's always going to him."

"Willow, I'm not asking you to cut him out of your life completely," Kennedy said almost desperately. "I just-"

"You just want me to abandon him when he needs me the most."

"I'm not saying that."

"Yes, you are," Willow told her. "I'm not doing this because I feel some kind of obligation to him. He saved me from myself and that's something I'll never forget, but I can't pay him back for that. He doesn't want me to. I'm doing this because he's my best friend. I know what he's going through here – that he feels like there's this big, black hole where his heart used to be – and I want him to know that it gets better. I'm doing this because, in my heart, I know it's the right thing to do. Every instinct I have is telling me to comfort him, and that's what I'm going to do."

"So, what, if things were different-?"

"I'd still choose him," Willow told her. "You were right when you said that Xander and I weren't that close when you first came here. We hadn't been for a while – years even. But now that I have this closeness with him again, I'm not willing to give that up. Not for you, not for anyone."

"Oh, my god…" Kennedy said to herself, her hand covering her mouth as she came to a realisation. "You're in love with him…"

"No…I…no…of course not…"

"You are," Kennedy told her, more forcefully. "She told me, and I thought she was kidding me."

"Who told you? What are you talking about?"

"When you and I first got together, I had a conversation with Anya. She told me that being with you was always going to be complicated, like it was for her with Xander. She told me that I'd never come first with you. She said she used to lie awake sometimes and worry about what would happen when you and Xander realised it. I thought she was trying to freak me out…but it's true."

Willow looked at her, wide-eyed and close to tears, wanting to feel incredulous and shocked and like it was something so far out of the realms of possibility that it was funny, but she didn't. Instead she felt relief, and like she had suddenly found something she had lost so long ago. And it scared her.

Kennedy watched Willow's reaction, and her expression that desperately tried to argue the point. "I can't stay here…" she said sadly.

"That's your choice," Willow said as she left the room.

Xander carried the last cardboard box from the dark and empty bedroom and walked through to the sitting room, placing the box on the kitchen counter. He took a deep breath as he looked around the now-bare apartment. His clothes and most of his other possessions were already at the house, and the furniture he had bought for the place was sitting in storage, with everything else he had picked up on this journey already in the car. 

When he had gotten the lease on the apartment, he felt like his life was finally coming together, and having Anya there with him made it all the better. That time in his life now felt like it had been years and years ago, and after everything that had happened in their lives, like many people, he had regrets. But he felt guilty that it wasn't over the things everyone else thought. He regretted hurting Anya in the way that he did, on their 'not-a-wedding day' - as Buffy liked to call it – but he knew what he did was the right thing. Like he had been told so many times by Willow, Buffy, and even Lissa, the she-demon who wanted to cut him open in the hope of raising another Turok-Han, it was better to not go through with the wedding than to pretend that everything was okay and spend the rest of his life hating himself. But the main regrets he had were not directly linked to the one person he was supposed to have loved with his heart and soul. A lot of them were more to do with his teenage years, things he should or shouldn't have done or said, and most of them surrounding his relationship with his best friend. 

Although he and Anya had shared one or two indiscretions after their break-up, most of the feelings he'd had at that time were just wanting to feel comforted, to feel like he could help in an otherwise helpless situation. He knew that even if she hadn't died, there was no hope for his relationship with Anya, and the strange thing was, because he had already accepted that, her death was easier to accept, once he realised there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. Yes, he still cared about her and loved her, but it was hard to distinguish how he loved her. But now she was gone…he felt like he had something to prove to himself, to everyone else, and he had made a silent vow to himself and to her spirit, wherever that was – probably somewhere hot, knowing Anya. He knew she wouldn't just disappear, that she'd linger on somewhere, probably annoying the hell out of someone – that he would always be true to himself and to the people around him. When she first died, he had found it so hard to let go of her. He felt so much guilt and pain at not being there to save her, and those feelings had consumed him almost completely, making him feel that he'd never find his way out of that all-encompassing black cloud that seemed to envelop him. Willow had been the only person he wanted to be in the company of, and she was the only person who could help him. She had been the one who made him see that he wouldn't have been able to stop it, like she couldn't with Tara. 

At the beginning of his relationship with Anya, when it had been just a physical thing, she had made so many comments about his relationship with Willow that it had almost driven him to insanity on more than one occasion. He felt guilty for thinking it, but a part of him – some tiny, miniscule part of him – resented Anya for being part of the reason he and Willow had become so distanced. He also knew that he was to blame for a lot of it, too, obviously. She had never told him to stop being such good friends with her, just merely hinted at it when she was annoyed or irritated, and at the time he mostly attributed the rift to the fact that they were growing apart. But being so close to Willow again after all this time…it made it hard for him to see what had made it all stop. It had taken a while, but she had been able to get back into his life and help him, and he'd needed that. 

Sometimes, when he lay awake at night, he felt bad every time he felt a part of him get better. It was one night when he was sat in front of the TV, Willow lying on the sofa with her legs thrown across his lap, that he felt it. It wasn't anything focal that he could see, like a shining light or anything like that, but something he felt inside of himself like someone was physically lifting the dark cloud from him. He just felt like everything was going to be okay. It was like this amazing calm that filled him, and somehow he knew that it was Anya telling him to let go of her. So he did. He had looked across at Willow and accepted his feelings, his life, his misgivings, misfortunes and regrets. He felt Anya telling him to stop looking back at his life and instead to look forward.

That's when things got complicated.

He picked up the cardboard box from the counter and went to the front door. He stood in the open doorway for a moment, looking around the apartment that had been his home for the majority of the past three years, and allowed his mouth to turn up into the smallest of smiles, and he let out a small laugh. He switched off the light and closed the door, taking a deep breath as he heard the door lock behind him. As he made his way down the hall to the elevator, he quickly glanced back at his ex-front door and wondered for a moment if he had made the right decision in leaving. As he came to a stop, a flicker of red hair shone up at him from the box he was carrying. He smiled as he pulled back one of the flaps across the top of the box, and saw a photograph of a happy, smiley Willow looking up at him with her arms around the image of himself. He shook his head as he threw his apartment keys up in the air and caught them again, before continuing down the hall.

There were no guarantees that he would be able to live in the same house as Willow without her, at some point, discovering how he felt about her. But he knew that living with his best friend was the only way they could retain their friendship, and he wasn't about to give that up for anything.

"Hello?" Xander called as he stumbled through the front door with two of the cardboard boxes he had taken from his apartment piled on top of each other.

"Hey!" Willow said, her tone obviously pleased to see him, as she came through from the kitchen via the dining room.

"Uh, Will, you think you can give me a hand here?" he called, worried he was about to drop the items at any time.

"Sure," she said as she collected the top box and carried it through to the sitting room, placing it on the coffee table as she did. "How was the apartment?"

"Pretty much empty," he told her. "I have the rest of my stuff in the trunk in the car," he informed her as he placed the box he had on the floor beside the sofa.

"More stuff?" she teased.

"Yep," he said. "I really hope Dawn wasn't too attached to her room. It's kinda turned into Xander's Junk-O-Rama."

"I think she's too happy in L.A. to worry about her room back here. I'll come and help you in a sec. But first…" she took a few tentative steps towards him, almost shyly. "Can I please have a hug?"

"Of course," he said, instantly beckoning her to him and wrapping his arms around her, enveloping her in his friendly embrace. "Feeling the need for some Xander-lovin', huh?" he joked, placing a friendly and comforting kiss on the crown of her head. "I get it. You dig me."

Willow couldn't help but laugh into his shoulder as his presence reassured her in ways no one else ever could, and she couldn't help but wonder, not for the first time in the last few months, how she could have gotten through some of the harder times in her life without her daily hug, a daily dose of him. She pulled out of his embrace, her arm still holding him tightly around his back as he held her at his side as a car horn honked outside of the house.

Xander glanced out of the window, his free arm pulling back the drape slightly, enough to see a yellow cab parked outside of the house. As he let it fall back he saw Kennedy reach the bottom step of the staircase, her bags in hand. "Uh, am I missing something?" he asked, confused. "What's going on?"

"It's a long story," Willow told him.

"I'm leaving," Kennedy said abruptly.

"Apparently not that long…"

"I'll see you guys around," Kennedy said as she opened the front door and handed her bags to the cab driver who was heading up the steps to the front porch. She looked at Willow one last time, desperately hoping for the redhead to put up some kind of a protest, but she realised it was never going to happen. She walked out of the front door and closed it behind her.

"Okay, what just happened?" Xander asked, his position unmoved, still confused and wide-eyed.

"She left," Willow said simply, her voice normal and without emotion. "Are you hungry?"

Xander looked at her blankly.

"Sorry," she told him, unhooking her arm from around him. "Stupid question."

"Willow, did she just leave you?"

"Well, let's see…she just walked out of the front door carrying her bags and she said she was leaving… Add it all up and it equals 'duh!' Dinner will be ready in a little while."

"But you didn't even try and stop her," Xander said, still confused.

"I. Know." She said pointedly. "Listen, I'm just gonna check on dinner and then I'll help you with your boxes, okay?"

"I'm still stuck on the Kennedy leaving part of events. Why didn't you stop her?"

"Because I think it was the right decision," Willow told him. "I'm just starting to get my life – my friend – back. It was just never going to work out between us."

"Care to elaborate on that?"

"Not right now, okay?" she asked, almost pleadingly. "All I want to do at the moment is check the dinner, bring the rest of your stuff in, and then go to the Bronze and dance the night away with my bestest bud. Is that alright?"

"Sounds like a plan," he told her with the half-smile that was reserved only for her. "Oh, you did mean me, right?"

"Right," she said with a grin. "We'll do the talking thing later."

"Well, this just sucks!" Anya complained loudly to Tara as they watched their former partners from their heavenly dimension. "They're taking too long!"

"Why don't you just relax?" Tara told her gently. "It will happen. We just have to wait."

"Waiting bites!" she complained again, crossing her arms across her chest and letting out a frustrated sigh.

"It's progressing at least," Tara reasoned.

"Progressing?" Anya asked, almost outraged. "Yeah, I'm sure the fact that neither of them has even mentioned their feelings is progression." She sighed loudly. "How long have I been up here anyway?"

"Anya, sweetie, you ask me that every couple of hours. You need to get the hang of the time frame up here. Time moves more quickly here. Once you adjust you'll be fine."

"Okay, okay," Anya said as she rolled her eyes, her tone still shrill and impatient. "But how long?"

"A little over three months."

"Wow," she said, looking around her. "I still can't believe I'm even here. I mean, I was a Vengeance Demon – twice over. I visited just about every revenge known to god, demon and human on unfaithful men for thousands of years. When my time was up, I was pretty sure I was going to the hot place down there – or at least one of them. I certainly didn't expect to see you. Don't get me wrong, it's nice and all, but there are thousands of other dimensions I could have ended up in."

"You helped to stop the world from ending," Tara explained. "You did a lot to help. This is their way of repaying you."

"Who are 'they' exactly?"

"I have no idea," Tara told her honestly. "All I do know is that, you know how down there it was all about following your destiny, finding your place in life? Well, in that split second when your spirit leaves your body, your destiny chooses you. Aren't you happy here?"

"I'm ecstatic," Anya complained. "That's the problem. I don't deserve to feel like this. It's strange. I feel so happy, so complete, so…well, it's hard to put into words, but you know how it is. I have no worries, no concerns, no problems. It's kinda eerie."

"So?"

"So the only way that can be better is if they finally get their act together down there! I spent most of the latter part of my mortal life waiting for it. I'm damned if I'm gonna do the same when I'm dead."

"You too?"

"Me too what?"

"You thought about what would happen when Willow and Xander woke up to themselves?"

"Every day."

"I know," Tara said wistfully. "I mean, when Willow and I first…when we were just friends, whenever she talked about him, just mentioning his name, I knew there was something special between them. At first, I told myself that-"

"-That they were just good friends. That they had a lot of history together," Anya finished for her. "I did the same. Even when Xander took me to the prom, it was obvious he wanted to be there with her. When we first started out, I told myself that it didn't matter because it was just a little fun. But when it got deeper, it was like sometimes-"

"-He was never really there," Tara said. "You could be together all day, but sometimes there was just a part of him that you were never going to see, never get to experience." She looked at Anya. "Sometimes, when she talked about something they had done together, even if it was before our time together, when they were kids, she'd get this faraway look in her eyes. And for that moment-"

"-It was like you were looking at a different person. Then you'd feel all jealous and paranoid about it. Sometimes, I used to lie awake in bed, just watching him and thinking-"

"-Thinking what you'd do when he told you that he was in love with her," Tara said. "How he'd tell you. If he'd give you the full story and be completely honest, or if he'd shorten it and try not to make a big deal of it cos they'd know it would hurt too much to know that you were just a stop gap – even if they never realised it. It was like-"

"-There was always a part of their heart that you'd never get to love you, because it was too busy loving someone else."

Tara smiled. "I guess we had more in common than we thought, huh?"

"I never resented him for it, though," Anya told her. "It even made me love him more sometimes. Of course, sometimes it made me hate him, too. I used to hate myself for getting jealous of what they had."

"Me too," Tara told her. "I used to think I was the worst person in the world when I saw them together, laughing and joking, sharing their own little in-jokes that no one else understood. That last year or so, though, when she thought I wasn't looking, she'd get out her photograph albums of their childhood and when they were teenagers. She used to get so upset at the thought of not being that close to him anymore."

"You know, I'm so close to depression right now, but I'm still happy. What does that mean? It's all so confusing!"

"I know," Tara told her. "The reason why you feel so at ease is because the person that bound you to the world below – emotionally – has let go of your spirit. They want you to rest in peace. I'm guessing that would be Xander?"

"Yeah, it must be," she said, nodding her head. "It's not like anyone else down there has that much of a hold on me."

"Xander has accepted what happened to you. That's why you feel so at ease. Do you remember the exact moment?"

"Yeah," Anya said thoughtfully. "He was feeling sorry for himself, watching TV or something. I remember thinking that I wanted him to know that everything was gonna be okay, that I was okay, and to get on with his life."

"Then that's why he let go of you. He felt it."

"When did Willow…when did she let go of you?" Anya asked. "Was it while she was in England?"

"Actually, it wasn't until recently. I kept trying to tell her time and time again that it was okay, but it was like she wasn't ready. She had so much guilt over what she did that she thought she didn't deserve any peace."

"So, when Kennedy arrived…?"

Tara shook her head. "No, not then either."

Anya looked confused. "When…?"

"It was the instant she realised that you were gone."

Anya watched her, almost speechless. "Me…?" she asked, confused.

"When I died…" Tara began, "Willow felt as if a part of her died, too, and that she was responsible somehow. She thought that by living she was betraying me in some way. I don't know what was going on with her and Kennedy, but she never loved her. But the moment you died, she let go of me and allowed herself to love again. All she thought about was Xander, and she opened her heart to him completely. I was so relieved when that happened…"

"So then why aren't they together!?" Anya yelled, not particularly at anyone, just venting her frustrations. "Is it because of that slayer-wannabe?"

"No, it's not," Tara told her. "That's over."

"So, they're a little closer?" Anya asked hopefully.

"Let's take a look, shall we…?"

"I can't believe the nerve of that guy!" Xander complained, seemingly outraged, as he followed Willow into the dark, empty house, closing the front door behind him as she turned on the lights.

"What guy?" Willow asked him, confused.

"You know, that guy," he told her. "I mean, he was so obviously coming on to you."

"Xander, I have no idea who you're talking about."

"Sure you do," he told her, following her into the kitchen. "He was stood at the bar, leering at you all night, and then he asked if he could buy you a drink."

Willow thought for a moment as she took the carton of orange juice from the refrigerator and poured two glasses, throwing the empty carton in the bin. "Oh, that guy," she said, taking a sip of her glass as she slipped her jacket off and put it on the nearby counter. "Xander, that guy wasn't coming on to me. I know him from school."

"Hey," he said, taking the other glass and walking into the sitting room. "I know what he was doing. I mean, in front of me and everything!"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Well, I know that when I see a guy and a girl together in a public place such as the Bronze, enjoying a drink and a lot of dancing, I'm gonna go right ahead and assume they're a couple. He was trying to steal you right from under my nose!"

"Oh, are you all jealous, Xandie?" she asked, obviously amused, as she sat at the end of the sofa and he took the other, both turning so they were facing each other.

"It's not funny!" he exclaimed.

"Come on, Xan," she told him, stretching her arms lazily. "You know you're my number one."

He grinned widely. "I know. I just like hearing you say it. So, speaking of relationships, you wanna fill me in on the whole Kennedy episode?"

"Nice segue," she said sarcastically.

"Come on, spill," he demanded as he pushed back against the soft cushions of the sofa and put his glass down on the coffee table, just as Willow raised her legs and rested them on his lap. "You have to tell me," he told her.

"Why?"

"Cos I'm your best friend. It's the rule."

"It is not," she argued back, joking.

"It is," he told her. "You have to tell me or…or…or…"

"Or the world will end?"

"Been there, done that," he said with a casual shrug. "If you don't, I'll tickle you…" he grinned as his hands wandered to her feet.

"Okay, fine," she conceded, pulling them back and out of his reach. "Just, no tickling."

"Okay, I promise."

"Kennedy and I broke up. That's it," she told him. "Happy?"

"No," he told her. "There's more to this than that. I mean, I know it's hard, but-"

"No, it's not," she interrupted. "That's the thing. It's not hard at all. I should be all mopey and depressed, missing her and asking 'why me?', but I'm okay."

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Yeah, it is. It means that I never really loved her."

"Sure you did," he said comfortingly. "I mean, you guys were so happy together."

"No, **I** was happy. Apparently, she wasn't. The worse thing is that I hardly noticed."

"What did she say?"

"Not a lot really. Just that she wasn't happy here, and that…" she paused, looking away from him.

"That what?" he asked.

"Nothing."

"If it was nothing then she wouldn't have mentioned it in the first place. What gives?"

Willow looked at him uncomfortably. "She just…"

"It was me…" he said softly. "Wasn't it?" he asked. "She didn't want me living here, being around you."

"Kinda," she said awkwardly. "I don't know, I guess she was jealous or something."

"Jealous of me?" he asked. "Yeah, cos being me really doesn't suck," he said sarcastically.

"She said…she said she felt like a spare part around here sometimes."

"That is such a load of bull!" he said angrily, his temper rising.

"No, it's not," she said honestly. "When I think about it, it's that truth. I mean, she was great, you know – well, when she didn't speak – and I should have been devastated when she said she was leaving. But I wasn't. You know what I felt? Relief. Before that last battle, I'd never even considered what might happen after, because I didn't know if there was going to **be** an after. But when she said that she wanted to stay, it was like, 'oh, okay'. Maybe it was because of what happened with Tara. I think that when Kennedy came along, part of me thought that if I didn't love her, I couldn't get hurt like that again."

"Don't blame yourself," he told her. "You should have told me she didn't want me here, Will. I would've gone back to the apartment."

"To be honest, Xander, I didn't really care what she thought, or take into consideration how she felt. I know that sounds harsh, but I'm trying to be honest."

"Honesty is good."

"And when she asked me to choose between you…it was no contest."

"She asked you to choose?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He broke into a grin. "And you chose me?"

"Yeah."

"Really? Me?"

"I'd always choose you."

"Really?" he asked again, this time more seriously. "Cos a couple of years ago, I think it might've been a different ending here."

She leaned forward, looking him in the eye. "What happened to us, Xan?" she asked sadly.

"Will…"

"What?"

"This isn't the-"

"What, the right time? Place?" she asked quickly. "Look around you, Xander. We're living in this house, closer than we've been for over three years. I don't know about you, but I've missed this. I've missed going to the movies with you and hearing you talk through all the best parts, having you over to dinner and watching you devour every piece of food in sight. I've missed knowing what you're doing every day, and what's going on inside your head when you look at me, when you talk to me. In high school, I would've known it all. I was like a walking text book with arms on Xander Harris. I need to know," she implored. "Please…just tell me what happened."

He watched her encouraging smile take form on her face, and looked her in the eyes. "Are you sure you want to know?" he asked hoarsely.

"Yes, Xander," she told him. "What happened?"

"I fell in love with you," he said simply. And there it was, out there in the open for all to see. He watched her stunned expression and wished he could take it back. "Sorry," he told her quietly.

"You…wow, this is…" she looked at him, struggling to comprehend what he was saying.

"Actually, no, I'm not sorry," he said suddenly. "After all these years, I think this conversation was more or less inevitable, don't you think? I mean, the whole 'what happened to us' thing? You're right. We need to talk about this."

"Okay…" she mumbled out, feeling like her head was going to explode with the weight of his words. "What…I mean, when…how…?"

"Well, first of all, please don't hate me for any of what I'm going to say, okay?" he asked desperately. "Promise me that when morning comes, we'll still be best friends, that tonight, this conversation, never happened?"

She opened her mouth to speak but found her voice unable, or unwilling, to cooperate. She simply nodded emphatically, and gestured for him to go on.

"I honestly can't tell you when I fell in love with. It wasn't like one single moment in my life where I suddenly had all these new feelings for you. I mean, that's how it happened when I realised what was it was, but it wasn't a new feeling. I think that the moment we met, I started falling. I'd never known any different than that as we got older, and then there was that pesky little meeting with a certain vampire slayer named Buffy which changed both of our lives forever. The moment I realised it…that was a huge deal for me. After all that stuff at Homecoming and getting caught in the factory, I realised that we could never be the best friends we used to pride ourselves on being. We both know that's when things changed between us. You wanted to make it up to Oz so badly that you pushed me out of your life. Not totally, though, but enough. I guess that's kinda why I took off that summer. It's definitely why Cordelia and I never got back together. I mean, you know, her hating my guts probably didn't help either. But if I'd wanted her back so badly I would've fought harder. See, I used to see it like love being like water. I loved Cordelia, maybe as much as the little toddler pool at the water park. It's still enough for you to splash around, have fun and take a little dip in, but it's never going to be enough. But with you…it was like the Olympic-sized swimming pool, god-knows-how-many feet deep and wide it was. But that didn't matter, because once you were in it, you felt like you were drowning, and what's even stranger is that you didn't care," he looked up at her. "Okay, bad analogy considering the whole swim team being turned into fish monsters debacle, but you know what I mean. I think, even then, I always thought that you and I would have another shot at it, somewhere along the line. But I never banked on Anya and Tara coming along."

"When…" she said quietly, and then took a deep breath, desperately trying to calm herself. "When did you stop?" she tried to hold on to the butterflies in her stomach that threatened to erupt at any moment, not knowing what he was going to say or do next making it all the worse.

"Glad you decided to join in the conversation," he told her with a grin. "I was beginning to think you were asleep."

"When…?" she asked again, her voice meek.

"I didn't."

And that was when her heart stopped momentarily. Was that a bad thing?

"I know this is a lot to take in-"

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" she asked, her eyes accusing, her features almost angry.

"I did," he said simply. "You just didn't want to hear me."

"You never told-" her eyes widened in realisation. "Oh, my…that was you, wasn't it? In the hospital?"

"Guilty," he told her, avoiding eye contact.

"But…I thought…I mean, Oz…" she desperately buried her head in her hands as the intense throbbing at her temples began.

"Willow…"

"Uh, I'm going to bed," she said quickly, dashing off the sofa and heading for the stairs as quickly as she could manage. "I'm tired. It's been a…weird day. I'll see you in the morning."

"But…"

"Night!"

Xander sat alone on the sofa, barely able to grasp the consequences of his actions, and looked at the photograph of Buffy and Dawn on the side. "Well, that went well…"

Willow tossed and turned in her bed for the thousandth time that night, kicking the covers from her body with violent movements, and let out a huge sigh, frustrated at herself. She turned again onto her left side and looked to the window, staring at the silvery moonlight drifting into the room. _Damn him! _She thought to herself angrily. _Why did he have to do this? And why now, of all times?_ She ran a hand through her hair. _Because you asked him to. You wanted him to,_ a part of her said. But it had been such a shock. _Was it? She asked herself. __Can you honestly and truthfully say that it was such a shock after everything that's happened? That, even after all these years, hearing Xander Harris saying he loves you – and not in a friend way – doesn't make you all tingly and warm inside? That it doesn't somehow make you feel more complete? Can you honestly say that you don't love him back, even now? "No…" she said to herself quietly, finally daring to say the words out loud. "I can't…"_

As she sat up, she felt her whole body shake at the revelation. She reached into the drawer in the bedside table and picked up the photograph of Tara that was laying face up, the moon illuminating her features, and she traced the image of her face with her finger. "I know I said that I wouldn't do this again, talk to you," she whispered into the dark, knowing that wherever Tara was, she could hear her. "But this is the last time, I promise. I know that you want me to be happy and to get on with my life. I think I can do that now. I hope you don't think that me loving someone else will make me forget about you or us, because it won't. I've loved him since forever, and I think he feels the same way. I hope you're happy, wherever you are. I'll see you again someday…" For the first time since Tara's death, Willow didn't cry. She kissed the image lightly, relishing the feel of the cold glass on her warm lips for a second, and then placed the photograph back in the drawer and closed it. "Okay," she said to herself as she sat on the edge of the bed, resisting the urge to bury her head in the pillows and forget about it all. "I can do this," she told herself.

She stood up and walked across the room, pulling down her rumpled, plaid pyjama's as she went, and as slowly and as quietly as she could, she opened the door. She had heard him go to bed an hour or so ago, and that comforted her. It meant that he was probably asleep by now. That was one of the things that always irritated him about the whole slaying gig was the serious lack of sleep he seemed to be always suffering from.

She crossed the hall and approached the door on tip-toes, even though she knew it would take a cattle herd to wake him once he was in the land of sleep. She reached out for the doorknob, but a sudden wave of panic hit her and she withdrew her arm quickly, her nerves getting the better of her. She sucked in a large breath of air and reached out again, this time managing to take hold of the doorknob, and rewarded herself with a little 'yay for me' in her head. She opened the door much like she had her own, and her breath caught in her chest when she saw his sleeping form. She couldn't help the tiny smile that formed on her lips as she took a step into the room. It suddenly hit her that this room was the one she had shared with Tara, and she struggled to quell the rumblings inside of her. Was it wrong to be in here with him when she had been so happy in here with her? The feeling soon passed when she heard some unintelligible muttering from him in his sleep, and she slowly walked towards the bed. She could see her own hands shaking as she touched the comforter and gently pulled it back, revealing the white sheets underneath. She carefully got into the bed beside him and shuffled down, pulling the comforter back over them. She lay her head on the arm that was spread across the pillow, and tentatively wrapped an arm around his bare chest, feeling him respond instinctively in his sleep by pulling her closer. She allowed herself a moment's indulgence by watching his sleeping face, watching the expression he wore with the smallest of grins, and felt the first moment's peace she'd had in a long time. "Goodnight, Xander…" she whispered.

"…Night…" he murmured in his sleep. "…Love you, Will…"

She closed her eyes, and was asleep in seconds.

The first he knew of the morning was the bright sun streaming in through the windows, assaulting his eye lid and warming the black eye patch across the other. He refused to give in and wake up, instead choosing to turn over, cuddling further into the warm body next to him, his arm tightening across her hips. _There's a body in my bed, and it's not mine,_ he told himself. _What the hell did I do last night? He vividly ran through last nights events in his head, trying to remember where the distinctly female body had come from. Every sense he had was screaming 'Willow' – the smell, the feel of her body, the way he felt so totally at peace, yet at the same time felt so out of control – but he didn't dare believe it. He slowly opened his eye, almost letting out a yelp of disbelief as he saw the red hair spread across the pillow. With her back to him he held her close, his hand flat against her stomach through the flannel material, and felt like pinching himself to make sure he wasn't dreaming again_. Of course, in my dreams I don't usually have the pirate-like eye patch and I have the body of a tanned Greek god, but hey, I'll take what I can get. Besides, ___Willow__ dreams are always the best. He felt her stirring in her sleep, and quickly wondered what to do. __Okay, not a dream…Should he look her in the eye and be all 'hey' when she wakes up, or pretend that he was still asleep? _

While his mind wrestled with itself, the sleeping body beside him turned to face him, her eyes fluttering open.

Xander froze as their eyes locked, every single thought he'd had previously flying out of his head, and he reached up slowly, tucking a stray piece of red hair behind her ear, smiling softly. "Am I still dreaming?" he whispered.

"I hope not," she relied, her eyes smiling. "Cos then it would mean this wasn't real."

"**Is** this real?" he asked, afraid of the answer.

"Do you want it to be?"

"Will, I-"

She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him softly. "Tell me again?" she asked him.

He took in her beauty, savouring every feature. "I…I'm head over heels in love with you…and still falling," he whispered.

She smiled and leaned into him, placing her lips gently on his. "I know what you mean," she whispered back.

"What does this mean for us?" he asked, still intoxicated by her presence so close to him.

"It means change, Xander," she told him seriously. "Everything's different now. Do you think you can handle that?"

"I think I can," he told her. "There are no guarantees in life, Willow, we both know that. But I do know that I've been waiting for this moment my whole life. I can't tell you that everything's gonna be okay, because I don't know that it is. I can tell you that I love you with everything that I am and I'm yours, if you'll have me, and that I will do everything in my power to make you happy."

"I love you," she told him, serious and honest. "I think that's all the guarantees we need."

The End


End file.
